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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271876">I Know That If You Hide, It Doesn't Go Away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilandok/pseuds/Pilandok'>Pilandok</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead To Me (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dark!Judy, F/F, Happy Halloween, Horror, Horror Logic, Smut, Thriller, but its still more angst, completely unhinged idiots in love, honestly just for fun, knife party - Freeform, less blood than you think, murder wives fight too</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:00:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilandok/pseuds/Pilandok</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Halloween Fic.</p><p>"So she doesn’t really mean to see it, Judy’s open computer, and it can’t really be her fault when those online crime-enthusiast rags have their fucking headline font sizes turned up to a hundred.</p><p>THE DISAPPEARANCE OF STEPHANIE CLAXON.</p><p>In a panic, she slams the laptop shut, retracting her hand immediately as if it had been burned."</p><p>Takes place on 2x10, on the day that Jen tried to confess.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Judy Hale/Jen Harding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Know That If You Hide, It Doesn't Go Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Halloween everyone!! Here's a little thriller smut~~ Unfortunately, I didn't get to put any supernatural elements, I wish I did. Or more blood.</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Jen sees it by accident. She’s a mom from the suburbs, knocking is something she’s unlearned, and casually traipsing around other people’s rooms in her house is just protocol— yeah, she knows that boundaries is something she does need to work on, either having too much or not enough. But she wasn’t there too snoop or anything, she’s more than happy to let Judy have free reign of the guest house. She can even repaint the walls or reupholster the fucking furniture if she wanted to. It’s hers now, Jen doesn’t have any intention to kick her out (actually, shudders at the possibility of even living separately at this juncture— that also merits an unpacking.) Jen just needed to put the emergency binder back in the safe, eager to rid herself of this physical reminder of what <em>this day</em> could have been. (She waits for Judy to get busy in the kitchen because the ridding of the binder thing sounds a little ritualistic and she doesn’t really want it to be a whole woo-woo spectacle.)</p><p> </p><p>                So she doesn’t really mean to see it, Judy’s open computer, and it can’t really be her fault when those online crime-enthusiast rags have their fucking headline font sizes turned up to a hundred.</p><p> </p><p>                <em>THE DISAPPEARANCE OF STEPHANIE CLAXON</em>.</p><p> </p><p>                In a panic, she slams the laptop shut, retracting her hand immediately as if it had been burned.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>                Jen walks back to the house, barely making it through the doors of the living room because she’s sure that her legs have turned absolutely useless.</p><p> </p><p>                “Jen? Dinner’s almost done,” Judy calls to her, humming a little as she takes something out of the oven. “<em>Don’t</em> tell me I overdid it. We should be allowed to celebrate today of all days.”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen finds her throat too dry to speak. It takes her a moment to weakly nod an affirmative</p><p> </p><p>                “I’m just— I’m just gonna call the boys,” she mumbles, willing her feet to walk to the stairs. When she manages to move past the couch, she feels a sudden, swift motion around her, making her jump.</p><p> </p><p>                “What’s wrong, Jen?” Judy asks, suddenly very, very close behind her.</p><p> </p><p>                “Hm?” Jen asks, turning around to see Judy’s usual innocent look on her face and she can’t help but relax at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>You look like you’ve seen a ghost</em>,” she says, still smiling, but her eyes turn a little dark. Jen feels like she’s getting whiplash from having that comfort suddenly snatched away from her. She’s starting to wonder what kind of person would have their laptop screen zoomed-in so much.</p><p> </p><p>                “Uh, I thought dinner was almost done,” Jen asks nervously, catching the glint of the blade on Judy’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>                “Oh,” Judy says, lifting the knife and Jen fights the urge to flinch. “Just chopping up some garnish.”</p><p> </p><p>                “Okay,” Jen nods, backing away slowly until she can feel the railing of the staircase with one hand, needing something to keep her stable. “I’ll— I’ll call the boys.”</p><p> </p><p>                “Yip,” Judy replies, turning around to go back to the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>                When Jen manages to stagger into her room, she slams herself against the door, hands immediately pulling at her hair.</p><p> </p><p>                <em>Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck</em>. She thought it was over, she thought it was over. Jen tried this time, she really did, to do the right thing, she fucking <em>confessed</em>. But they let her go— that cannot be on her. Steve’s body remains unfound and unbothered and she was, somehow, going to get away with it all but now—</p><p> </p><p>                <em>Can’t we bury him in the backyard?</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Jen remembers Judy’s suggestion. She said they could just send the boys over to Lorna for a night and they can dig up a hole for Steve to rest. Then Judy would plant a flowerbed on top to explain the freshly dug soil.</p><p> </p><p>                “No, no. That would be too obvious,” Jen quickly shot down the idea, “I mean, if they find the body, it basically confirms that I killed him.”</p><p> </p><p>                “But they won’t find the body, Jen,” Judy told her. “They don’t have any reason to look for it here!”</p><p> </p><p>                “Judy, I’m not going to be in a house with a fucking dead body under my—” Jen stopped herself, feeling her stomach drop. She shut her eyes tightly, <em>one thing at a time. One fucking thing at a fucking time.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Judy seemed to have caught on to Jen’s hesitation and something shifted in her tone when she said, slow and rigid, “We can bury him right over <em>there</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen followed Judy’s gaze and her eyes landed on a spot just between the guest house and the pool. She knew it didn’t make sense but she could swear that that certain patch of grass was starting to look like a different shade of green.</p><p> </p><p>                “That’s— that won’t work, Judy,” she said, her voice shaking.</p><p> </p><p>                “Why not?” Judy’s voice was low, almost a growl.</p><p> </p><p>                “It just fucking won’t, okay?” Jen shouted and Judy seemed to snap back to her usual self, her face breaking out into concern. Jen calmed herself down. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”</p><p> </p><p>                “Okay,” Judy conceded. “Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>                “It’s okay,” Jen breathed automatically and it started to feel like a reversal. And Judy’s all but back to normal except there was a flash of something indecipherable in her eyes that told Jen she didn’t miss that shift at all.</p><p> </p><p>                She knows, Jen thinks, <em>she knew</em>. Even though Jen acknowledges how fucking insane that is. How can anybody possibly know? The only other person who could have known is <em>dead</em>.</p><p> </p><p>                Then, she remembers, <em>but I hope that Stephanie got the help that she needs.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>Jen’s</em> the one that fucking told her.</p><p> </p><p>                 With shaky hands, she fishes her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through her contacts for Lorna’s name. She needs to make a few calls. And she needs the boys out of the house as soon as possible.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>                “Charlie, Charlie,” Jen knocks on his open door and sees him on his laptop.</p><p> </p><p>                “Yeah, I’ll go down in a while,” he answers absentmindedly.</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>Char</em>,” Jen whispers urgently. He looks up and his eyebrow creases at the face she’s making. “You’re going to bring Henry to your grandma’s, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>                “Mom, what?”</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>Please</em>, Charlie. Listen to me. I need you to keep your brother safe.”</p><p> </p><p>                “What the— Shit, Mom, I thought that everything was okay?”</p><p> </p><p>                “Charlie, please just—”</p><p> </p><p>                “Is it the Mafia?” he asks in a loud whisper.</p><p> </p><p>                “No!” Jen answers and steps into the room fully, closing the door behind her. “Who even told— no, it’s not.”</p><p> </p><p>                “Mom,” Charlie says through gritted teeth, standing up. “Please tell me what the fuck is going on. Does it still have something to do with Steve?”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen’s face breaks but she holds back the tears. Her son, her sweet fucking beautiful son. It wasn’t his fault.</p><p> </p><p>                “Charlie,” Jen starts, already regretful that there’s no way to go about this while keeping the truth from him. “It’s about <em>Stephanie</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>                The color drains from Charlie’s face.</p><p> </p><p>                “I— I— I,” Charlie stutters and Jen reaches out for him, wrapping him into a tight embrace as his arms hang limply at his sides. “I thought you said you took care of that already. You and Dad.”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen thought so, too.</p><p> </p><p>                “Get your brother out of here, okay?” Jen tells him again. She leans back and rests her hand on his shoulders, squeezing them. “Get him ready, take my car, and go to Lorna’s. She’ll be waiting for you.”</p><p> </p><p>                “Mom. Mom, I—” Charlie shakes his head. “I don’t have a license.”</p><p> </p><p>                “Fuck the license,”Jen says, managing to give him a smile. “But drive safely, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>                Finally, after a few loaded seconds, Charlie nods.</p><p> </p><p>                “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen gives him a kiss on the forehead before pulling away.</p><p> </p><p>                “I’m going down first. You don’t need to tell me when you’re leaving. <em>Just go</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen turns to leave but Charlie calls out to her.</p><p> </p><p>                “Wait, Mom. What about you? And Judy?”</p><p> </p><p>                “We have something we need to take care of. We’ll follow in her car,” Jen says and just so the last thing she tells Charlie won’t be a lie, she adds, “I love you so much, Char. Both you and Henry. And I’m so fucking sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>               </p><p>                When Jen returns downstairs, Judy isn’t in the kitchen but the dining table is already set with a whole feast laid out. <em>Shit</em>, Judy definitely overdid it. Henry would flip if he sees the miniature Ferris wheel holding cupcakes on each seat. Hopefully Charlie can deter him from that. Seeing the set-up, she almost lets herself believe that it’s all one, big, frightening misunderstanding. But when she counts not one, but two freshly-baked cherry pies on her side of the table, it starts to feel less like a feast and more like a last meal.</p><p> </p><p>                She searches for Judy on the first floor, a little frantically, wondering what her move will be if she’s upstairs with the boys. But she sees the light go off in the guest house and figures Judy must be back in there. Jen realizes how obvious she must have been, that she left the fucking laptop closed. She walks to the glass doors, eyeing the guest house, waiting for Judy to come out but she doesn’t. She pushes against the panel but stops halfway, deciding to walk back to the kitchen. After a quick sweep of the counter, she decides she might as well go with the knife, not really the situation to be picky about clichés.</p><p> </p><p>                She waits by the pool, waits for the sound of footsteps shuffling to the front door. Charlie follows her instructions obediently and she hears them both exit the house with little fuss. They didn’t say goodbye, which is what she wanted, although it still hurts that she hasn’t heard Henry’s voice the whole night. But she doesn’t know if she can keep her emotions in check in front of him. When she hears the car engine start and pull out of the driveway, Jen lets herself relax for a bit. The most important part is done, the boys are out.</p><p> </p><p>               </p><p>Judy left the door open for her.</p><p> </p><p>                “Was that Charlie and Henry?” Judy asks as soon as Jen steps through the threshold of the dimmed guest house. Jen sees her hunched over some pictures of a girl spread out on the floor, back turned to her.</p><p> </p><p>                “Judy...” Jen starts, gripping tight at the handle of the knife at her side. “Who was she?”</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>Where</em> is she?” Judy snaps back and Jen can tell that she’s been crying, pretty hard if her voice is that cracked already. But the underlying rage in her tone stops Jen’s instincts from taking over, stops her from offering comfort.</p><p> </p><p>                “I—” Jen stutters, feeling her throat close in on her. She shuts her eyes tight, trying to ward off a haze that’s beginning to take over her head. She needs to stay <em>aware</em>, she needs to fucking acknowledge it. “I think you know, Judy”</p><p> </p><p>                Judy’s head whips around to glare at Jen, her face contorted to an unreadable expression. She sees the knife in Jen’s hand and laughs bitterly.</p><p> </p><p>                “Are you going to kill me, too, Jen?” she asks. Standing up slowly, her voice is steady and purposeful as she says, “She was my <em>niece</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>                <em>Holy fuck. J</em>en knows about Judy’s older sister, the one that inherited their mother’s habits. She had a child that Judy practically raised herself. Until one day, her sister took her back when she managed to “marry rich.” As the years went by, Judy lost contact with the both of them.</p><p> </p><p>“Judy— Jude, I’m so...” Jen begins, not having a fucking clue what to tell her.</p><p> </p><p>                “I loved her,” Judy says, making her way over to Jen who’s practically frozen against the desk. “She was like my own daughter, Jen.”</p><p> </p><p>                “Judy, I didn’t— I didn’t know,” she begins to sob, the horrible feeling of guilt caving her chest in. “I’m so sorry, Jude. I’m sorry—”</p><p> </p><p>                “Stop it!” she shouts and there was something broken and desperate in her voice. “Of course you didn’t, Jen. You barely talked to the police even though you were the last person to see her. You didn’t say anything! You didn’t arrange <em>her</em> fucking vigil!”</p><p>               </p><p>                “Judy,” she says as carefully as she can but as Judy gets closer to her, Jen can’t help but raise the knife between them.</p><p> </p><p>                Judy scoffs, undeterred.</p><p> </p><p>                “Are you going to say that I attacked you, Jen?” she asks cruelly as the tip of the knife grazes the fabric of her dress against her chest. “Like how you told me that Steve attacked you?”</p><p> </p><p>                “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jen sobs, hand shaking as she feels Judy press herself up harder against the blade.</p><p> </p><p>                “Did <em>Steffie</em> attack you?”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen shakes her head pathetically, managing to let out a weak <em>no</em>.</p><p> </p><p>                “Then what the fuck happened, Jen?”</p><p> </p><p>                And Jen wants to tell her, she really does. Wants nothing more than to get rid of that one secret, that final weight on her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>                “I— I can’t,” Jen whispers.</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>Fuck!</em>” Judy exclaims and Jen notices that Judy is crying, and behind her hysterical gaze is something that’s unbelievably <em>in pain</em>. Judy wraps her hand around Jen’s, the one on the handle of the knife, pushing it up as she moves closer, so she can press their bodies together. She aims the blade at her own neck. “What difference do <em>I</em> make? Just one more body, Jen. I just need to know what happened to her. Bury me next to her, for fuck’s sake.”</p><p> </p><p>                “No, no, no,” Jen says, feeling her own grip on the knife weaken as she tries to pull the knife away from Judy.</p><p> </p><p>                “Jen, <em>please</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>                “I don’t,” Jen starts, voice shaking as she struggles to stop the blade from pressing into Judy’s neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen sees something shift in Judy’s eyes, something that softens, and Jen takes this opportunity to lift an unsteady hand and bring it to Judy’s face. When Judy instinctively leans into the touch and she can’t help but let her eyes flutter close at the sensation, Jen thinks, with a certain pang to her chest, that she can <em>use this</em>.</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>Baby</em>,” she says, running her thumb below Judy’s eyes to wipe some of the tears. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>                “We deserve to die, Jen,” Judy says, her voice high, “Because— because you killed her and I— I couldn’t bring her justice because...Because I... for you—I...”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen feels Judy’s hand loosen its grip on the handle and Jen pulls the knife away, letting it fall to the floor. She takes a deep, trembling breath before grabbing Judy’s face with both her hands and pulling her into a kiss.</p><p> </p><p>                Against all logic, Judy kisses her back. And it’s nothing like how she let herself imagine before. There were no sparks or fireworks, no comfort or inevitability, no feeling of things falling right into place. The kiss tastes like guilt and hatred and bitter tears and is just so <em>wrong</em>. But god, there was that burst of inconsolable <em>want</em>. She wants it so bad, she wants Judy so fucking bad— every part of Judy that she’s not allowed to want.</p><p> </p><p>                She imagines Judy to be on the same page because she doesn’t move easily or gracefully against Jen. She gives more teeth than lips, too much tongue, her hands not low enough on Jen’s hip as she grips her tightly. But Jen can feel the desperate yearning as Judy pulls her to the day bed, as she rips open Jen’s shirt, as she rids herself of her own dress.</p><p> </p><p>                Jen enters her forcefully, without much prelude, just moving her panties to the side to shove two fingers inside Judy. Still, Judy takes her in completely in one go, cursing Jen’s name like she hates her and jerking her hips desperately like she never wanted anything more. Jen goes at it hard and fast, she almost feels like she can’t control herself, like she can get drunk at the sounds she’s eliciting from Judy. Like everything might finally come crashing down if Judy stops looking at her with eyes so clouded with pleasure, if she looks at Jen for real.</p><p> </p><p>                To make up for the harshness (some part of Jen still feels compelled to), she’s gentle with her mouth. She places featherlight kisses along Judy’s jawline, trails her neck with soft flicks of her tongue. She carefully sucks on Judy’s nipples with her slightly swollen lips. Judy responds well to the staggering dichotomy, alternating between long sighs and sharp jerks of her body.</p><p> </p><p>                “Why does it feel so good inside you?” Jen breathes as she descends onto Judy’s stomach. She feels like she doesn’t know what she’s doing, what she wants to happen. She doesn’t understand how they got to this point. She can’t stop herself from talking. “Why now, Jude?”</p><p> </p><p>                Judy whimpers. Jen curls her fingers inside her, continuing her trek down Judy’s abdomen.</p><p> </p><p>                “Because...” Judy struggles, “Because I wanted you to be at your happiest.”</p><p> </p><p>                It hurts, somewhere inside Jen. She fights the urge to give that hurt back, for once in her life. Before Jen dives into her hot center, Jen calls her name gently, <em>Judy</em>.</p><p> </p><p>                She waits for the angry brown eyes to meet hers.</p><p> </p><p>                “You’re the one who made me happy, Judy,” Jen admits and she doesn’t wait for her reaction before pressing her tongue on her swollen clit. Judy’s thighs close around her head as she feels hands tangling in her hair and pull at her scalp. It feels like an urge to make her mouth move faster but Jen keeps her slow pace on her Judy’s clit. Instead, she adds a third finger inside Judy to which she responds with her thighs clamping down around Jen harder. Her ears covered, Jen almost can’t hear anything beyond the the slick sounds of her fingers sliding in and out of Judy, and of her own pants as she laps her up from between her legs.</p><p> </p><p>                When Judy comes, Jen raises her head up to watch her ride out her climax and she catches the tail-end of her delirious blubbering.</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>Ihateyouihateyouihateyouihateyou</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>                She says it so lovingly that Jen almost doesn’t recognize the words. A harsh dichotomy of her own.</p><p> </p><p>                She lets herself collapse on top of Judy, resting her head right at the crook of her neck to listen to her erratic heartbeat. She spots a red line on Judy’s chest, of a slightly-raised skin where the knife wasn’t able to break through. Jen doesn’t get to ponder on the image because Judy flips them over suddenly, her hands quickly undoing Jen’s pants so she can pull them off along with the underwear. Judy gives up halfway, unable to get it past the knees, and slides her fingers in between Jen’s legs to plunge it deep inside her.</p><p> </p><p>                Jen doesn’t fully understand how much she wants it until she can feel her own moisture practically splash back against her thighs as Judy fucks her. She feels embarrassed at the sounds she’s making, high-pitched and whiny, and undeniably desperate. It’s not the best angle and Judy’s fingers don’t reach as deep as they can but it doesn’t matter, Jen’s so, so <em>close.</em> And it doesn’t seem to matter to Judy as well as she leans back onto her heels, watching Jen with a hard look on her face. Their only points of contact are Judy’s inner thighs on her hips and her fingers in her cunt. It feels cold in a way that Jen doesn’t understand yet, a kind of loneliness, but her body is still responding enthusiastically to the motions.</p><p> </p><p>                “Judy, <em>fuck</em>,” she moans as she feels herself at the precipice of her orgasm.</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>I love you, </em>you know,” Judy tells her, finally leaning over Jen, giving her the contact that she’s been craving. But Jen’s reeling at hearing those three words thrown at her so spitefully, so full of hate. It feels like a reversal she should have seen coming. Maybe she also should’ve predicted the knife under the pillow. “I really should kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>                She feels the blade rest on her chest at the same time her muscles clench around Judy’s fingers . Judy’s breath feels hot on her ears.</p><p> </p><p>                “Like how I killed Ted.”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen can’t stop her climax halfway through.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>                She doesn’t exactly know when she gets stabbed, but she does see when Judy’s face falls.</p><p> </p><p>                “Oh my god,” Judy gasps as she lets go of the knife.</p><p> </p><p>                Adrenaline rushing, Jen looks down at her chest, feeling a little surreal at the sight of the handle poking straight out of her body. But the pain hasn’t reached her yet and she has enough awareness to reach an arm down her leg.</p><p> </p><p>                “Shit. <em>Jen</em>, shit,” Judy panics, her hand hovering over the wound. She looks so much like her usual self that Jen almost stops, but <em>fuck</em>, the pain is starting and she can’t really afford to hesitate now. Especially since Judy looks like she’s about to pull out the knife (whether purposefully or just earnestly ignorant of how much a bad idea that is, Jen has no clue.)</p><p> </p><p>                Jen just needs... to... reach... into… her... fucking... boot.</p><p> </p><p>                <em>There.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>The gun feels familiar in her hand, sickeningly so. Jen took it out of the safe as soon as she saw the name on Judy’s screen. She’s never actually shot it. But she’s a fast learner and she hopes Karen’s taught her enough.</p><p> </p><p>                The gunshot echoes loudly in the guest house. Ted really splurged on the fucking acoustics.</p><p> </p><p>                Judy slumps on top of her, motionless. Jen, for one, stomach-gouging second, thinks that she’s dead.</p><p> </p><p>                “Shit” Judy coughs, rolling to Jen’s side, her hands instinctively pressing down on the hole in her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>                “It was Henry,” Jen tells her, tasting blood in her mouth. She wonders if it’s a punctured lung.</p><p> </p><p>                “What?”</p><p> </p><p>                “Ted and I,” Jen says, breathing heavily, the pain starting to bloom in her chest. Physically, this time. “We got home one night and she was dead at the bottom of the stairs. Henry pushed her.”</p><p> </p><p>                “<em>What?</em>” Judy asks and Jen can feel her try to turn her head.</p><p> </p><p>                “Don’t move,” Jen tells her. It’s really starting to hurt now. “They were playing... a game... Charlie... he blames himself... for not watching... I think... she was <em>high</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>                “Fuck,” Judy says.</p><p> </p><p>                “I needed... to protect... them...” Jen says. She doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a child, but she does know what lengths she will go to, to keep them safe.</p><p> </p><p>                In silence, Jen can hear how loud her blood is flowing through her veins, she wonders if that’s normal.</p><p> </p><p>                “Jen,” Judy says, voice barely audible. “Are we going to die?”</p><p> </p><p>                Jen wants to say <em>no</em>, but blood is filling her mouth. Instead, she just reaches over, using what she thinks is the last of her strength to grab Judy’s hand. It’s barely successful as she only manages to lay the back of her hand against Judy’s. Both of which were busy pressing against her bleeding wound. <em>Oh right.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>The sound of sirens come and Jen hears Judy make a surprised grunt. Thank god Jen told Karen to call 911 if she hears a gunshot. Or if an hour passes after that bitch of a conversation, if she didn’t call again.</p><p> </p><p>                Jen isn’t going to let them die.</p><p> </p><p>                There’s a slight twitch on her hand. Before she loses consciousness, she feels Judy’s fingers, warm and slick with blood, lacing themselves with hers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I'd like to hear your thoughts.</p><p>Aside from being a Halloween fic, this is actually also a commemoration of me being in this fandom for one month. I said, I'll write one fic... boy, that was a slippery slope. Anyway, I'm very very thankful that people have been super super nice and sweet and fucking gracious to me from this fandom... sorry for delivering my thanks through this slightly fucked up little one shot. Anyway, still smut!</p><p>Title is from Little Dark Age by MGMT</p><p>(Here's the Halloween Spotify playlist i listened to on loop as I wrote this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kHwqKVpljU82sikmmbamL?si=THzpuFfFSZGH3gX-Pls2HA)</p><p>on twit: @aprilopenmybill</p></blockquote></div></div>
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